Yet Anna is endurable, And Annie better still; And Sarah is sedate and neat; Matilda has a sickly sound, And Esther sage and staid; Fit for a queen to wear,— Maria is too forward; And Gertrude is too gruff, Yet coupled with a pretty face, But Emily is beautiful; And Mary is divine; Maud only suits a high-born dame; And Fanny is a baby name. Eliza is not very choice; Jane is too blunt and bold; And Martha's somewhat sorrowful; And Caroline is vain and shy; And Flora smart and pert; Louisa is too soft and sleek ; And Harriet is confiding; ANONYMOUS. GENTLEMEN'S NAMES. IF in the ladies' names exist, Both harsh and gentle tones, So, in the names of gentlemen While some are humble, others vain ; And some suit kings, and some the swain. George smacks of country life and fields, While Julius has a city sound, And Edwin's somewhat tame. John is most English, but appears And Edmund dull, though steady; While Michael's rough and ready; Charles may amongst the great abound, But Charley has a rakish sound. In Alfred, there is something old, That breathes of ancient fame; Frank speaks most clearly for itself, And Ernest does the same; Round Alexander seems to glow Power's bright and golden blaze; While Edward, with its Saxon birth, Adolphus is fantastical; Ralph fitted for a knave; While Philip is too sharp and quick, And Jacob much too grave; In Henry there's a simple grace, "Tis soft and unpretending; In Eustace, poetry and love Seem elegantly blending: While David's fitted for a Jew, As Isaac, Job, and Gabriel, too. In Roger there's a vulgar sound, In Ebenezer there is cant, And Joseph teems with woes; And Joshua seems the name of men With dirty hands and clothes; And Sidney, sweet in tone appears, The name of clever men and peers. In Walter there is thought—a soul · In Percy and in Frederick, both, A martial tone and fire! From Robert and bold Alan springs And Clement, Lawrence, Horace, all Though Martin cannot boast of much, But Francis is too girlish; Yet perhaps the worst of all men's names ANONYMOUS. MAUD MULLER. MAUD MULLER, on a summer's day, Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth |